Lyrics Tell 'Em That - King Hot, Nef The Pharaoh

Tell 'Em That

Got my hands on the game like a bike bar
I ain’t ran from nothin' but a cop car
I got the syrup in my blood, it’s a dirty piss
I got a bitch in Bel Air like I’m Will Smith
Your bitch wanna choose, she wanna really ball
She good on the head like tylenol
Bay boy 'til I die, I’m still stewy
My Skittles on my feet, I don’t wear Gucci
on my lap, no peace time
We all tryin' to eat like the lunch line
Tryin' to start smoke, that’s suicidal
The boy with the action, that’s on the bible
They ask me what I want, I tell 'em «all this»
I spent ten bands up at Saks 5th
All about the Grants and the Benjamins
That’s fox fur on the strings of my Timberland’s
The kid out here winnin', tell them hoes that
The kid out here lit, tell them hoes that
The kid out here stylin', tell them hoes that
The kid out here strapped, tell them hoes that
Uhh, tell them hoes that
Tell them hoes that
Tell them hoes that
Tell them hoes that
Foreign exchange student, European classy
Never heard of speed limits, we gonna do the dashy
I should bring the hoes, got it bad for me
Closet full of J’s look like a factory
I was Sick Wid It 'fore I signed the dotted line
I’m a ticking time bomb, I will break a
I know Italians and I fuck with Taliban
The shit in Cali bomb, I be doin' what I want
I don’t fuck with snitches, you can run and tell them hoes that
Got a couple killers on life and they want that
Alledgedly I walk around with that’s a known fact
little niggas and they probly where your home at
It started as a dream now it’s reality
Get the green and I did, I cop the celery
I see a bunch of commas on my salary
Boy I swear my na-na would be proud of me
The kid out here winnin', tell them hoes that
The kid out here lit, tell them hoes that
The kid out here stylin', tell them hoes that
The kid out here strapped, tell them hoes that
Uhh, tell them hoes that
Tell them hoes that
Tell them hoes that
Tell them hoes that